


untitled 995 (for the road)

by impostures (traveller)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Vignette, joe is also an artist with a wrench
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:08:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveller/pseuds/impostures
Summary: There were faster ways to get to Budapest, but Joe had spent half the year restoring an ‘81 280E and he was dying to take it out on a real drive.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	untitled 995 (for the road)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mellyflori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyflori/gifts).



There were faster ways to get to Budapest, but Joe had spent half the year restoring an ‘81 280E and he was dying to take it out on a real drive. From the outside it still looked like the ancient taxi it had been, black paint faded to patchy gray and the hubcaps long gone, but Joe had meticulously rebuilt the engine and the gearbox, and he promised it could get them out of any trouble they found.

 _I'm not worried about the car, my love,_ Nicky told him with a gentle smile. _It's more your driving._

 _Of course,_ Joe answered sweetly. _Maybe after we get there you can go fuck yourself._

All spring and summer Joe had worked in the little garage space he rented, coming back to their flat only once the sun had fled, sweaty and streaked with grease and oil. Nicky loved to peel him out of his coveralls right there inside the door, to swallow the salt and funk of his skin while Joe cradled his jaw in one careful hand. At night they made love on their big brass bed, windows open to the thick sluggish breeze off the Vistula and the sounds of passing barges, and took turns holding each other down.

But the seasons always changed, and the moon was bright as they departed south. There were faster ways to get to Budapest than driving all night to cross the Danube at dawn, winding through the Tatras on roads that had never seen better days. Bob Dylan on the tape deck, Joe's fingers twined with Nicky's on the gearshift, Nicky drowsing with his cheek pressed to a balled up jumper in place of a pillow as Joe sang along softly: _One more cup of coffee 'fore I go... To the valley below._


End file.
